New Moon (12 page)

She made a small whimpering sound, increasing the pressure a little, driving him insane with need. But he didn't move a muscle, only let her do what she wanted. At her own speed.

She kissed his cheek, them moved back a little, pressing her hand to his chest. "Your heard is pounding."

"Yes."

"You want…"

"Everything a man and woman can give each other," he answered. "But not until you're ready."

She dragged in a shaky breath.

He knew he shouldn't press his luck, but he heard another request tumble from his lips.

"You could lie on top of me. With our pants still on. I'd like that, if you want to do it. It would feel good—to both of us."

She looked down at his swollen cock, standing out against the fabric of his slacks.

He held his breath, waiting to see how much she trusted him. But as he lay there in the semidarkness looking at her, he heard something outside—the sound of voices.

He went rigid.

Rinna tensed, then leaned away from him and snatched a kitchen knife from under the edge of the blanket.

Gripping the weapon in her hand she climbed to her feet, her body coiled in a defensive crouch.

Logan stared at the knife. "Put that away."

"We have to fight."

"We're the ones trespassing here. We don't have the right to kill anyone." Before he could stop himself, he asked, "Were you going to slit my throat if I did something in bed that you didn't like?"

She gulped. "I… I had to know I was safe…"

They'd have to discuss that later. Meanwhile, they had to get out of the house.

"Run upstairs," he told her. "Open a window and fly away. But wipe your prints off. I'll get out down here and meet you in the woods. Look for a wolf," he added with a rough laugh.

So much for making sure nobody knew they'd been here, he thought as she dashed for the stairs, her steps a lot lighter than his would have been.

He watched her disappear down the hall as he considered his options—and who might be outside. The homeowners coming home early? A neighbor who had seen someone in the house? The police?

The cops would be armed. Would the neighbors or the homeowners?

He hoped not, because if push came to shove, he would defend himself. But he'd rather not get into anything heavy.

He made a split-second decision. A wolf couldn't open the door, and if they closed it behind them, he was trapped. But a wolf might look like a German shepherd. And maybe they wouldn't shoot at a cowering animal.

Hoping that Rinna was already out the window, he tore off his clothing and tossed the shirt and pants into the corner.

Then he walked to the wall beside the doorway where he'd have the most shelter, already saying the words of transformation, pushing past the change as rapidly as he could.

Before he was finished, he heard footsteps coming down the hall.

"I don't see anything," a man called out.

It sounded like the homeowner. Didn't he have sense enough to wait for the cops if he thought something was wrong?

The man clattered into the room. He was short and stocky with a fringe of dark hair around his bald head. Logan cowered back like he was only a frightened dog.

"Jesus Christ," the guy exclaimed. "A dog got in here."

Logan fought the urge to attack. He could take this guy so easily. But the man was an innocent bystander who had come home to find a dog in his house. So Logan played the part he'd assigned himself, ducking his head submissively and edging toward the side of the room, hoping he could make a break for it.

"Good doggie," the man said.

The woman rounded the corner. She was taller than her husband, with red hair and a big bust. Both of them looked to be in their mid-fifties. Too bad they'd decided to come home early.

As the lady of the house took in the scene, she gasped. "That's no dog; it's a wolf. Shoot it, Bart. Shoot it."

Logan felt his heart start to pound.

The guy moved toward a drawer in an end table that Logan hadn't searched. When the man drew out a gun, Logan howled, then turned and ran down the hall.

Unfortunately, he'd only run into a trap. The door was closed, and he stopped short. He could turn and attack. Or he could run up the stairs.

He chose to run.

At the top of the stairs he turned right, dashed into a bedroom, and found the window closed. It wasn't the room Rinna had used as her escape route.

Downstairs, he could hear the woman shouting out advice. "Stay away from it. It could be rabid."

"What do you expect me to do?"

"Call the police."

He didn't hear the end of the conversation because he was already out of the room and into another. To his vast relief, one of the windows gaped open.

Sticking his head out, he saw that it opened onto the front porch. When he climbed out, he almost lost his footing.

Above him he could see a white bird circling the house.

Rinna. She came down low, then landed a few feet away.

He wanted to shout at her to get away. But he couldn't talk. All he could do was say the words of transformation in his head.

In the distance he heard a siren. The cops were already on their way.

He pushed a curse out of his mind and focused on the chant. He could see flashing red and blue lights by the time he made it to human form. The pain of changing quickly twice in rapid succession made his head spin, but he knew he didn't have much time.

Rinna hovered around him, her wings frantically beating the air as though she could somehow help him.

With a grimace, he stumbled toward the edge of the roof, then hung by his hands and let himself fall. He hit some bushes, scratching his legs and his ass. Ignoring the scraped skin, he staggered away from the house.

A car door slammed.

"What the hell?" somebody shouted.

Either the cops or the homeowner must have seen a naked man dashing for the woods. Maybe they thought the house had been invaded by a druggie and his dog.

Behind him he heard the beating of wings, then a man's voice rang out, his voice sharp and frightened.

"Get the hell off me. Get off!"

And Logan knew the bird had attacked.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

LOGAN STOPPED SHORT and started to turn, until the bird came flapping toward him, squawking. Knowing that he was making them both a target, he doubled over, feeling like he had a bull's-eye on his ass as he pounded toward the woods, gritting his teeth as stones dug into his feet.

He chanted as he ran. He'd never changed on the run. And he had never transformed from man to wolf to man and back again so many times in such a short period.

The process was always painful. But tonight his muscles and ligaments screamed in protest. Jaw clenched, he ignored the agony because he knew he couldn't outrun the cops if he remained in human form. And the next time the bird attacked, she could get shot.

Praying that they couldn't see him change in the darkness under the trees, he kept going, hitting the ground on all fours and stumbling before he got his footing again.

Somehow he kept running, and then there was another wolf keeping pace with him, a white wolf.

He stopped, dragging in air, fighting the pain in his side. Rinna came up beside him, nuzzling her muzzle against his face. He turned his head and licked her, wishing he could talk.

He wanted to tell her how glad he was that she was there, and at the same time, he wanted to scream at her that she'd taken a damn stupid chance by flying at the cops.

Probably it was better that he couldn't berate her, because he knew she was defending her mate—even if she didn't understand that yet.

After a few minutes rest he started moving again, not quite so fast, pacing himself. He was damn glad he'd looked at the map earlier. When they came out on the road, he turned left, trotting along the shoulder until he came to a cross street.

He recognized the name and turned right, heading for the patch of woods where he'd left his tent.

Once Rinna left his side, and he wondered where she was going. She came back with a rabbit in her mouth, which she dropped at his feet.

He might have been embarrassed to tear the animal apart in front of her. But he needed the nourishment. So he ate what she offered, then cleaned his mouth at a stream.

He had a good sense of direction. He only got turned around a few times.

Rinna stayed beside him, stopping when he had to rest, pressing her flank against his and waiting until he could travel again.

Finally he came out into the small clearing where he'd left the tent. To his vast relief, it was still there. He crawled inside and threw himself on the sleeping bag. When he thought he was strong enough to take the pain, he changed once more, gasping as he resumed his human form. After he could move, he pulled on jeans and a shirt before opening up the sleeping bag so Rinna would have some place to lie, if she dared to rest beside him.

She stuck her head inside the tent, and he saw that she had changed, too.

"Are you all right?" she asked, her voice urgent.

"Yes. But I need to sleep."

"I'll stand guard. Do you have something I can wear?"

He handed her sweatpants and a button-down shirt before falling back onto the sleeping bag.

RINNA had been near this place before, when she'd found Logan in the trap, but now it felt like alien territory. She'd been so naive when she'd come through the portal, thinking she could get along in this world. She'd found out how wrong she was. All you had to do was poke something into a little hole where the electricity came out and you could get killed.

She looked down at Logan. He must have thought it was safe to sleep. But what if he was wrong? What if someone came along and attacked them with that weapon—a gun? Was it all right to fight them off? Kill them?

She didn't know the rules, and the frustration bubbled inside her. That and other frustrations.

Back at that house, she'd gotten close to him—physically close. And it had felt so good to do those things. She wanted more of that with him. But was she still too afraid.

She clenched her fists. She didn't want to run away from the feelings building inside her. But she didn't know if she could let him… She cut off the thought. All she had to do right now was keep him safe until he woke and hope she didn't make any mistakes.

And what if Falcone's soldiers came along? That possibility had her fighting panic.

He had used the trap and found her once. But he wouldn't risk it again, she told herself, not when he might catch the wrong shape-shifter. But there was still Haig. He must have given away the secret of the cave. What else would he do under Falcone's orders?

She tried to put Haig out of her mind, as she looked through the equipment Logan had brought, handling each item carefully. He had a flashlight. Was it valuable here, or just ordinary? And what about the folding knife with a bunch of other funny parts that opened up? And he had a lot of supplies. Like in the convenience store. They represented a fortune back home. But probably not here.

He also had boxes with plants that he'd dug up. For his job, she supposed. He was like the gardeners who worked for rich men. But she suspected that he was paid well for the service.

After she'd inspected the things in the camp, she climbed back inside the tent and lay down next to him.

It flashed through her mind that he could wake up and grab her. Although she resolutely pushed that idea away, she took a knife with her when she lay down beside him. Not to protect herself from him, she assured herself—but in case someone came along who might try to hurt them.

She had hours to think—about Logan. About what he wanted from her. And what she dared to want from him. Finally, after a long time, he stirred. Still when she saw his eyes blink open, she felt her insides clench.

He stared toward the flap at the front of the tent, then turned his head and looked at her.

"You can put the knife down. I'm not going to attack you."

"How do you know I have a knife?"

"Intuition."

"I wanted to be prepared if someone came."

He dragged in a breath and let it out. "I'd like to say you don't need to carry a weapon in this world. But I'm not sure it's true anymore."

When she answered with a little shrug, he changed the subject. "What time is it?"

"Afternoon."

"I was…"

"Exhausted."

"I was going to say I was no help for the past few hours."

"Everything's fine."

"Good."

She had been waiting to ask him questions about what had happened.

"Those people back at the house; they found a wolf in their… family room?"

"Yeah."

"And then?"

"The nice lady wanted to shoot me."

She dragged in a shuddering breath, then let it ease out of her lungs. "Shoot you. Like the man at the convenience store?"

"Yeah. Only she was defending her home, not robbing someone." He sighed. "We've got too many guns in this world. Or… too many people using them."

"I was scared when you didn't come out—for you," she whispered.

"I was scared—for you when I saw you flapping around that cop."

She lifted one shoulder. "I was trying to distract him."

"You could have gotten hurt."

He rolled toward her, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek. "I'm sorry. It was pretty hairy back there."

She tried to figure out what he meant. "Hairy?"

"Dangerous. Frightening. I guess we shouldn't have stayed in that house."

"You thought it was safe, and you needed to rest."

"Bad judgment. But the emergency's over."

He gave her a long look, then his gaze drifted to her lips. "Rinna, let me kiss you. Just kiss you."

He had kissed her before and shown her he wasn't going to hurt her. She was still worried, but she wanted to feel his lips on hers, so she gave a tiny nod.

When he brought his mouth to hers, she sensed that he was trying to keep the contact light and nonthreatening. But deep emotions flowed through the kiss. Emotions that made her heart swell.

When he lifted his head, his eyes were very clear and as bright as new coins. "I love you," he said in a thick voice.

Shocked, she reared back. "You don't have to say that!"

"Right. I don't have to. But it's true," he growled. "And don't give me any of that slavery crap. I don't care who your mother and father were. I fell in love with the warrior woman you are. Well, warrior woman, wolf, and bird of prey," he amended, as he kept his gaze firmly on her.

When she couldn't speak around the lump in her throat, he added, "It's going to work out okay."

With all her heart, she wanted to believe that. But she had to be realistic. "We're so different."

"No. We're a lot alike."

"Even if that's true, it doesn't matter. Unless we can…" She stopped and started again. "Unless we can neutralize Falcone."

He studied her face, and she wanted to look away. But she kept her gaze steady.

"You were going to say…'kill,' weren't you?"

Wondering what he would think of her, she answered, "Yes."

"Don't worry about the sentiment. I know he's worth killing. Not just for what he did to you. It sounds like he's bad for Sun Acres."

Again, she forced herself to be brutally honest. "Maybe not. The city needs a strong leader. If not him, then some other man with power who can protect them from invasion."

"You have a cynical view of the world."

"A realistic view," she corrected. "Even the nobles accept limits on their freedom in exchange for protection."

"How did there get to be nobles? There weren't any around here in 1893, were there?"

"I think the rich people…" She shrugged. "I think they gave themselves that title."

He snorted. "So much for the American experiment of equality. Do they have other titles? Like 'duke' or 'lord' or anything?"

"I never heard anything but 'sir' and 'noble.'"

"Well, maybe one of them is strong enough to protect Sun Acres. Because I plan on wiping Falcone off the face of the earth."

Those were brave words. She wondered if they were realistic.

"He's powerful," she warned. "Not just psychic power. Because he's been successful, he has a lot of support."

"But you know his weaknesses."

"And he knows mine." She gulped. While she'd lain beside Logan, she'd thought of what else she needed to tell him. "He did something to me… something besides…" She had thought she could say it, but the words simply stopped.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to talk about."

She looked down at her hands and spoke rapidly, before she could lose her nerve. "In school they discovered I had a talent few people possess. It was a… big event. I was being chased by a bunch of the older boys, and I made them stop and turn around. The teacher saw it, and she realized I could… influence people. Put suggestions into their mind, and they'd do it. They thought it would be an asset to the city. But Falcone was afraid of that. He and some of the powerful men he gathers around him sent a block into my mind. When I try to use that power now… it hurts."

"Christ!"

"I can use it a little. I used it that first night when you were in the trap. I got you to change."

"Yes! I remember."

"If he did that to me, he could do other things. That was why I ran away, that and… the other." She raised her head. "I mean his taking me to his bed and… forcing me to serve him."

"Raping you!"

"A slave woman never uses that word."

He gritted his teeth, then spoke very slowly and distinctly. "Forget about the word 'slave.' It will never apply to you again. In this world, you are free to be anything you want."

She licked her lips. "It's hard to change a lifetime of thinking—so quickly."

"I think I can help you change your vision of who you are." He searched her eyes. "If you let me."

"I want to," she answered in a small voice. "But I don't know how."

"You can free yourself. Starting with what he did to you in bed. I know you've had a long time to think about it. But you and I can make the memory into something that doesn't rule your life."

She hardly believed him. Yet he looked at her with such hope that she knew she had to try—for him as much as for herself.

He must have seen agreement in her eyes, because he went on. "He made it so you're afraid to trust another man. But I'm nothing like him. And I'd like to prove it to you. Will you trust me enough to let me touch you and kiss you—just that? Just things that feel good to you—nothing more."

She licked suddenly dry lips. "I want to. The whole time you were sleeping, I was thinking how much I wanted to be with you again."

"Good. At the house, I asked you to be in charge of what we were doing."

She looked uncertain.

"I want to do things that will please you. But you'll still be in charge, because if I do something you don't like, tell me, and I'll stop."

When she took her bottom lip between her teeth, he said, "All you have to do is tell me, and I'll follow your orders," He reached for her hand and pressed his fingers over hers. "Do you believe that?"

"I think so," she answered, because she wanted it to be true. So much.

He rolled to his side, looking down at her, stroking a lock of dark hair back from her face.

"You are so beautiful."

"I'm not!"

He laughed. "I think you're no judge of women's looks. So don't argue with me about it."

He leaned down to nuzzle his face against her cheek, her neck, turning his head so that he could nibble at her jaw, then her collarbone.

"I can feel your tension," he whispered. "I know you're afraid, and I know you're very brave to stay with me—in bed."

"I'm not brave."

"Of course you are! You're brave enough to let me change your tension to something good."

She hung on his words, mesmerized by his voice. "How do you know so much about this?"

He laughed. "Reading women's magazines in the doctor's office."

"What?"

"This world is full of books and magazines with advice for women. Love advice."

He kept stroking her lightly as he talked, sliding his hand through her hair and over her cheek, then tracing the shape of her lips.